


Adrenaline

by TheSilentUnderworld



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Adrenaline, Biting, Blood, Nonbinary Character, Other, Power Play, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25708264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilentUnderworld/pseuds/TheSilentUnderworld
Summary: Sex didn’t make sense from a survivalist perspective. Dropping armor, dropping walls, it was a terribly foolish thing and for what? 15 minutes of pleasure? An hour? Bloodhound did not share themself like that, not these days.Well.Not with most.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Caustic | Alexander Nox
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Adrenaline

Rare was it that they’d allow themself into such a compromising position. Bloodhound won most often not because they were relaxed but because they kept a keen eye out for danger of any kind, from any angle, from any source. Some might call it a quiet paranoia. Thusly, sex didn’t make sense from a survivalist perspective. Dropping armor, dropping walls, it was a terribly foolish thing and for what? 15 minutes of pleasure? An hour? Bloodhound did not share themself like that, not these days. 

Well. 

Not with most. 

The dropship became visible in the distance as the announcer called out their names. Bloodhound, Caustic, Mirage our Apex Champions, and Bloodhound’s hands were clenched tight, unhearing, crushing drying blood. Just moments ago they had broken Bangalore's neck under their palms. Just minutes ago they had shot Octane's arm clean off. The adrenaline surged and their animal nature crashed from rib to rib in their chest, screaming to rip the life from anything that moved. Scorching urges, Bloodhound stood perfectly still.

Caustic watched them like a zookeeper watches a tiger. Unperturbed but noting the danger that stood so near to him. He had been lucky enough to never met Bloodhound on an opposing team, all observations had been done from this distance and from this distance he had garnered that they could in fact pose a threat- even to him. At first he’d wondered if it would be easier to kill them unprepared off the field but then he had realised, rooms side by side, they slept almost as little as he did. There was no way to dispose of them quietly so he’d submitted to the fact they were the only thing that could end up in his way, his sole liability. Attraction springs from strange places. Caustic could guess his sprung from the information he was denied. No names, no eyes, no way to kill them. We covet that which we can not have.

The tapping of boots, the chattering Elliott always made (win or lose), it ushered them onto the evac ship which took them up to the Dropship. Congratulations as they stepped aboard, greetings and cheers half from those they had killed. Macabre, Bloodhound looked through it all in a semi-responsive daze. Before anyone besides Caustic could notice they’d disappeared into their room.

He indulged the good will enough. Boasted in his way and answered the inane questions for just as long as he needed to. Tomorrow would be the press tour, the interviews it seemed neither he nor Bloodhound cared for. Too much to do, too much to plan, too little care for the social petting. His door shut behind him and weren’t it for the movement he might not have looked to the window between he and Bloodhounds room. His eyes followed sharply, still on his own edge from battle, only to see the shell of armor Bloodhound wore over their chest fall. Their Raven called in response but they paid no mind as their hands pulled at the straps and belts that covered their form. There was a moment where it would be acceptable for Caustic to look away and close the window, but the moment passed as the layers came away from the legend, the baggy tan under armour, the gloves. The hat came off along with the mask, facing away from him. Soon their body was left devoid of all coverings besides a back jumpsuit. 

They were stripping and he was watching them. 

His curiosity did not let him look away. 

And as they leaned down to push their boots off he saw the curve of their body. The fabric held snug on their form, their toned arms, the circumference of their waist and thighs and when they leaned back up he saw the black hair. He saw the band of brown that made up the exposed section of their neck and he saw the chipped paint on their nails. 

He saw them. And as sudden as lightning strikes they saw him too.

Glasses red, eyes still hidden, but they had caught him. Caustic should blush, turn away and pretend he didn’t see anything at all. That would be the way out, but he didn’t want out. He wanted to keep looking. They stood there silently, watching each other like a Killer Whale watches a man through it’s aquarium glass. Barely contained, the both of them.

And then Bloodhound stepped forwards, perfectly silent on bare feet. They came to the window and now Caustic could see the white scars that snaked over their brow, under their glasses and clothes. He knew them a warrior, but these were strange. Chemical. Of course even seeing them bare led to more mysteries.

They pressed their palm to the glass dividing them and he could see their breathing, as heavy as it had been when they plunged their knife into Gibralters torso, or decoupled Wraiths' legs from its socket. Violence and arousal, they conjured the same state. Bloodhounds mouth opened to let the air dissipate and he could see their canines, defined as the animal from which they took their name. If it weren’t for the relative silence and the newfound access to their lips Caustic might not have heard what they said next.

“Come.” 

He knew what the invitation was. He knew how terribly dangerous something like this with something like them could be. And none the less he slid from his room into theirs, unseen due to Elliots showmanship in the commons.

They were still stood tall when he returned to their sight, hands fisted in tension. Before he knew it those hands had come to his chest and pushed him against the door. “Rules?” 

A solid noise as his back met the metal. “None.” He pulled his own mask away and sat it on the dresser that conjoined their rooms below the glass, some fairness in the gesture though he was still fully clothed. 

“Good.” Their mouth found his, more bite than kiss. Teeth and tongue and oxygen deprivation, though the larger man Caustic was forced to pull away for air first. A flash of weakness in that, bad lungs from decades of chemicals. Before the idea could settle in the air he took it upon himself to prove it’s implications null. Bloodhound was being stepped back, the back of their knees coming into contact with the edge of their bed with continued pressure forcing them to sit. Yes, this was quite compromising indeed, sitting palms to sheets, eyes up at the broad figure of the man they had invited into their quarters. 

“Rules?” Caustic mimicked the question as he looked down at them, nearly mocking. The threat of disobedience. Dangerous too. 

Air pushed through Bloodhounds nose, enough a rebut of the threat as needed. “Don’t call me differently, just because you see me.” 

“Tch.” Wasn’t a meaningful response, but that was half the fun in Caustics book. Everything had a kind of equation that could be followed to an expected outcome, complexities just made them more fun to rip apart and understand. If Bloodhound were smart or daring then they’d figure it out. And Bloodhound themself was just too many unknown variables, not enough data to solve. Though he would try. Every action dual meaning, a move to fill in more blanks. 

The blank he sought first started with the zipper on the back of their bodysuit, pulled down to their lower back. It peeled off of them as the last thing sparing their skin from the open air- from the strange yellow gaze of the man undressing them. From being known. 

Though notes were made, Caustic's gaze was less than aprazing, more focused on the destination. Hound layed back on the bed, legs raised to allow the rest of the cloth to be ripped off of them much as one skins their hunt. An integral part of them, inside out, a different type of dying. They didn’t sit idle though. As their bodysuit was thrown to the side they sat back up, undoing the obvious belt at Alexander’s waist. The rest of the outer layer of tubes and lab-gear was heaved off by the owner, metal meeting metal as it clattered to the floor. 

For a half moment Alexander met eyes with a human being. For half a moment Bloodhound did the same. Two flesh and blood bodies breathing their heat away, space between them so small and so big it could eat them whole. The moment went as fast as it came. Alexander didn’t take long before he crashed down upon them, making space for himself between their hand-parted legs. He could feel the warmth of them through the rubber of his gloves, one of the last bastions of comfortable distance. Of course Bloodhound got to work ripping those off of him as soon as their mouths once more met, never one to busy themself on a single task.

Alexanders mouth moved away from their station, lower, over their neck, shoulder. Teeth sunk into skin, retracing scar tissue and threatening to make more. The Hound, phased though unparalyzed, was pulling Alexander’s grey pants away as he did so. A palm met blood gorged flesh and Bloodhound got to work pumping his fully erect cock. The grunt of approval that pressed into their shoulder seemed to be enough to spur them on, hand in no way stopping it’s motion and mouth returning every bite to sender. For a moment they laid there much like piranhas, testing how violently they might bite, how deep they might bruise. Bloodhound though sunk into the older man’s neck with more abandon, sharper, harder. 

Too hard. 

Alexander pressed them down with his hips and wretched his neck from their teeth, hand clasping the offended area in reaction. He drew his hand away only to reveal slick, warm blood. Only to reveal the red of him and a grin painting the hunters lips. 

“Bastard.” He huffed with his own shaky smile, spiteful and defiant, sitting up on his knees if only to keep his jugular away from that maw. One hand pressed at their knee to part their legs steadily while the other took his cock from their hungry grasp, lining themself up with their entrance and pushing in. 

That earned a look of surprise from the hunter, brow furrowing in what became a mix of discomfort and pain. Though neither of them were small individuals, one was larger. “Fuck…” A hiss, though their tongue lapped the red from their teeth while a fist grasped the front of Alexander’s shirt. Alexander could think of more apt bodily fluids to paint their features with. 

Perhaps in mercy the man pulled back slowly, allowing their body a moment to recover from the feeling. “Eye for an eye, hound.” 

“Perhaps I should have gone for the artery, then.” 

To that Alexander's hips snapped forwards, revoking any plan of acclimation as an angry pace was set. Perhaps to make them regret the statement, perhaps to fulfil the request. “Insufferable…” He fell forwards a bit, one arm holding his weight while the other held them under their knee. 

“Fuck!” A repeated exclamation, though this time of higher pitch and stronger whine. Bloodhounds mouth was agape, more tooth and gum showing with each thrust from the man above them. Their nails dragged down the front of Alexander’s shirt before resting on his arm, digging into the rubber. 

As though annoyed Hound soon used that placement to shift their positions, knocking Alexander off his balance and rolling on top of him. “Too slow.”

A retort died on Alexander’s lips as they pushed his chest down with both hands, forcing him to rest on the bed while they began to ride him. Power play, he wasn’t sure he was a fan of having it snatched from him like that, but he wasn’t sure he could be concerned as they brought their weight down on him. If he had any nails to speak of they naturally found their place in the flesh of Bloodhounds hips, and if he had any qualms with the position they burnt away as he bucked up into them thoughtlessly. Very little about either of them could be considered as much, completely unplanned, completely lost to want. Reservations, fear, equations, paranoia- words and concepts. The two of them were nothing more than bodies rutting into each other, searching for the same release. 

When it finally came, though, opposite reactions were observed. Bloodhound, who’s glasses had since slid to the lowest point of their nose, attempted to pull off of Alexander at the same moment the man, with all his strength and all his weight, pushed them down to be fully connected with him.

Alexander won that split second tug of war, spilling into them with muscular twitches and arched back, with eyes that rolled and a long groan that ate up the scarce air. Bloodhound too found their end, spasming tight around the scientist, every muscle tensing. Whatever problem they had with the act was lost to the bliss, head resting on Alexander’s chest while the last inkling of their orgasms faded. 

“Perhaps…” Alexander spoke as the sweat became cold on the legend’s skin. “... we should do that more often.”

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in like 2 years and I come back with this rarepair... I'm so sorry.


End file.
